


chasing our tails

by chymyg (greetingsfrommaars)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, M/M, arguing as a form of affection, in which doyoung is competitive melodramatic and kinda tsundere, many nerf guns, naruto spoilers i guess, questionable confessions, side pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28314789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greetingsfrommaars/pseuds/chymyg
Summary: "Let's make a deal: if we're both single when we're 40 let's meet up with each other in a neutral area and hunt each other for sport."A tale of love, war, and nerf guns.
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 12
Kudos: 54
Collections: NCTV Secret Santa 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dyintherain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyintherain/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don’t ask about people's class years... i have no idea lol

When Doyoung thinks back on the trigger for his downward spiral, he can pinpoint it precisely in his memory: the moment of certain doom.

Let’s set the scene. They’re hunkered down in an obscure stairwell towards the back of the history department. Posters of long-dead military men stare severely down at them from the walls. They haven’t heard footsteps, allied or hostile, for at least half an hour. They’re still reeling with shock at what they’ve just seen.

Doyoung jumps at the hand that comes to land on his knee. He jerks up and almost clocks Yuta in the jaw with his elbow.

“Whoa whoa, watch out for the goods,” Yuta says, but he holds his hands up in a placating gesture.

Doyoung ignores his platitudes, and then the insistent elbow that jabs at his gut. Why did he agree to team up with this guy again?

“Hey, let’s make a deal.”

“We’re on the same side,” Doyoung points out. “For now.”

“Not that kind of deal – wait, what do you mean _for now?”_ But Yuta recovers himself. “Let’s make a deal: if we’re both still single when we’re 40 –” Doyoung stiffens. Don’t people usually say 30 or so for stuff like this? Is Doyoung that much of a last resort? “– let’s meet up in a neutral area and hunt each other for sport!”

Oh.

Maybe Yuta wanted the extra time to train himself up and get on Doyoung’s level, he reasons.

Doyoung allows himself to picture it, for one traitorous moment: the two of them together, decades later. They’re in a forest or a meadow or something. No birds are singing, because the tone would be way off for a confrontation years in the making. The glint of the sun on Yuta’s hair, the flash of his bright grin betraying his position so Doyoung can claim rightful victory.

He shakes Yuta’s outstretched hand with the solemnity the occasion deserves.

Then the enemy is upon them, and the first bullet slams into his chest before he can speak.  
  
  
  
Doyoung forgets about it then, in the face of more pressing concerns, but it resurfaces later, when they both line up to receive the color of armband that marks them as newly deceased. The scowling senior confiscates his remaining bullets. Yuta is running around chatting up bored seniors like some particularly irritating ghost.

Doyoung would come along and nag Yuta into taking a break, but really, he can’t bring himself to do much more than trudge home and collapse on his bed. Losing has drained all his remaining energy. He can barely dredge up a kind of vague anticipation for the memory of agreeing to hunt Yuta for sport at some nebulous time in the future. He can’t even imagine being in his forties at this point. Why can’t he just hunt down Yuta now and save them the trouble? Oh right, they’re on the same side. (Three years, and Doyoung’s still not sure if Yuta is worse as an enemy or an ally. One inconveniences him intentionally; the other infuriates him and dances out of reach because friendly fire is _bad_ and _not fitting for mature adults_ or something.)

More than that, though, they did make a promise. Doyoung is a man of his word.

Also, Doyoung is two minutes from keeling over onto the pavement and taking a nap right there.

Man, being dead sucks.  
  
  
  
Perhaps some explanation is in order.

Depending on how you look at it, their school isn’t _that_ weird. Plenty of universities pile on the social events to encourage community and camaraderie between students. You know, ice cream socials, theme nights, the like. Doyoung has heard about a spicy ramen challenge that took place at his friend’s college, which is cool but obviously nothing compared to his school.

No other school has the yearly Clash.

(Doyoung knows this for sure, because he read every admissions recruiting brochure from title to copyright footer.)

Every year, hordes of students at their uni clash all across campus in two factions. Territory is staked and claimed. Every well-beaten path is watched and viciously guarded. Hundreds of nerf bullets pierce the air and occasionally hit their targets. Certain places are out of bounds, like classrooms, but otherwise there’s free reign. Squads roam the campus like packs of dogs, outside of class time, taking prisoners or skirmishing for territory. At the end, each side’s territory gets tallied up for points, and the victors ascend into eternal glory, which is signing all their names on a ratty banner that gets hung way up on the student center wall where no one can read it.

After three years, it has become Doyoung’s favorite part of the year.

Doyoung has a long, personal history with the tradition. The first year, he nearly lost it all – dignity, self-respect, his sanity, you name it. The second year, he made an unprecedented comeback – only to be thwarted at the last minute. And the third year, well. His downfall began, of course. We’ve gone over that.

It took a few weeks for the damage to set in, however.  
  
  
  
“No, you cretin! Give that back!”

Doyoung’s hand seizes empty air, as Donghyuck barely twists out of reach.

Doyoung stalks toward him. He ignores the loud cackling. His heavy footsteps don’t have the intimidating factor he was going for, because they’re bare and sopping wet.

What has Doyoung done to deserve this? Getting ganged up on and tossed in the pool was enough of an indignity. Johnny was the main instigator, because of course he was, but don’t think Doyoung will forget that everyone else followed along. They may think they’re safe from retribution while Doyoung is outnumbered, but he lives to prove people wrong.

He just has to stop his hair from dripping into his eyes first.

At first it looked like Donghyuck had the decency to rescue Doyoung's phone out of his pocket. Until it turned out he just wanted to crack Doyoung’s passcode while he was otherwise occupied. That, or lock him out for the next six hours.

Doyoung scowls at him and receives a shit-eating grin back.

Doyoung is just about ready to negotiate with the human incarnation of evil when his day gets a lot better and a lot worse at once.

“Lee Donghyuck, I will string you up by the kneecaps –”

“Hey Doyo!”

Yuta appears from inside, waving his arms madly as if they’re a football field away. Doyoung scowls at him too. He’s drenched, not blinded.

“Hey Hyuck,” Yuta says, now in an inside voice. Why the whole spectacle for Doyoung, then? Yuta nods at Donghyuck and clearly notices the phone in his hands. Donghyuck makes it a little too obvious, because he snatches it up to his chest when he catches the direction of Yuta’s gaze. Where’s his sense of subtlety?

But Yuta does nothing.

What little camaraderie they’d built up while they ran around together for the Clash was gone now, it seems. Doyoung sees how it is. Their bonds die when they do, huh? Doyoung looks at the sunny smile on his face and seethes. Finds Doyoung’s suffering funny, does he? Well, Doyoung is glad to share, just this once.

He slaps a hand to Yuta’s chest and watches vindictively as it soaks right through. Give it a few minutes, and it’ll seep down his front like chilly fingers trailing down. He’ll start shivering, and then Doyoung will laugh at _him._

After a second, it registers that Yuta isn’t moving. Why isn’t he moving? Doyoung would have leapt back by now. He looks up, and Yuta is staring.

Doyoung has the distinct sense that he’s teetering at the edge of a long fall once again, only this time he can’t see through the water to the chipped tiles at the bottom.

Before he can yank his hand back, Yuta seizes it in both of his. Doyoung yelps as he gets dragged closer, then spun around like a top, and then left to stumble back upright on his own. It takes a second to get his bearings again.

Yuta has bundled him up in a warm fluffy towel.

“There, now we’ve switched places!” Yuta says brightly as if his shirt isn’t starting to stick to his chest like a second skin. “You’re warm, and I’m wet and miserable!”

Could it be? Did Yuta not, in fact, show up to gloat at him? The rational part of Doyoung’s brain points out: why else would he bring a towel?

There’s a warm hand on his back, right over where his heart thunders, and Doyoung irrationally panics at the thought that Yuta might feel it.

Doyoung can’t find the words. He has to apologize. Whatever past rivalry they’ve had doesn’t give him the right to torment a man who only came to help him. But apparently the torment was effective. Doyoung had thought that a wet t-shirt was nothing compared to a wet _everything_ , but Yuta already admitted to being miserable! It’s only a fraction of Doyoung’s suffering, which Yuta was party to and did nothing to prevent. Doyoung has to taunt him.

Yuta just keeps giving him that half-smile, the same one he had when he went to offer Doyoung a pact and Doyoung nearly brained him. The same one he had that time Doyoung decided to switch it up and be the bigger person for once, and tried to throw all their laundry together as a favor, and accidentally dyed all Yuta’s socks pink. (Not that Yuta seemed to mind the wardrobe change, but most people would shout and wave their arms at least a little bit at the unexpected change. _Doyoung_ would have berated him for that.)

Doyoung doesn’t know what to do with this smile.

Then he catches Donghyuck’s eye. The little rat is laughing at him.

Doyoung stages a tactical retreat into the house.  
  
  
  
But just as Doyoung steps through the door, he hears it.

“By the way, Hyuck. The code is his brother’s birthday.”

“Aw sweet, thanks!”

Doyoung is going to shank that man one day.  
  
  
  
When he thinks about it, Doyoung doesn’t know what’s scarier – how fast he got distracted from his goal, or how easily Yuta managed it. The murderous intent towards Donghyuck was there. The simmering rage towards all the other culprits was there. He even had the beginnings of a plan to get back at Johnny and Donghyuck at the same time, for maximum efficiency. Where did that driving force go?

More than that, how could he end up at a loss for words like that?

When Doyoung thinks about it, he has to admit. He thought about Yuta coming to wrapping him up in a fluffy towel, and then a case of the warm fuzzies took him out. Maybe this was Yuta’s dastardly plan all along.

These are the facts of the case. Doyoung is a young, skilled, up-and-coming student. Yuta is just some guy. Yuta shouldn’t have this kind of power over Doyoung, to thwart him by, what, distracting him with his face and his unexpected kind gestures?

Doyong can’t let that best him. That’s so plebeian.

What does Yuta get out of this, huh? The sight of Doyoung’s crestfallen face? Well, Doyoung has seen Yuta’s face of disappointment, and it’s… kind of upsetting actually. It makes his face almost grotesque, because that should never happen.

Yuta is a more interesting challenge when he’s excited and raring to go.

Years in the future, Yuta will be a worthy target when they fulfil their pact, Doyoung’s sure. He remembers it every now and then, and tries to redirect the thought into planning his strategies for the promised day. The agreement still sticks there in his mind like an intrusive thought.

That’s a consideration for the future, though. For now, the fact of the matter is, Yuta is up to something. Doyoung feels not a smidgen of guilt for soaking his shirt unprovoked.

And if a week later Doyoung blows away the month’s savings on a jumbo box of assorted Japanese snacks and leaves it at Yuta’s door without a note, well. That’s not anyone else’s concern.  
  
  
  
But did Yuta receive it safely? What if someone stole it from the hall –  
  
  
  
“Don’t you think you’re getting a little sidetracked? Are you sure you didn’t bring this up just so you could talk about Yuta’s face?”

Doyoung bristles a little at the interruption, but, well, it’s not like he can confide in anyone else. All his friends are snakes.

Anyway, if Doyoung is being honest, it’s all just gone downhill from that day. He fell for the warm fuzzies once, and now they’re here for good. He's done for. He's toast. The future is coming for him, and it’s got its jaws wide open to swallow him like a… like a…

“Blue whale,” Taeyong supplies helpfully.

Doyoung smacks at Taeyong’s arm, but the angle is all wrong. Doyoung’s aim is suffering from his horizontal position half draped over Taeyong’s lap. “Don’t be stupid. Blue whales don’t eat organisms of my size.”

Taeyong blows out a gum bubble and lets it pop with pointed emphasis.

“I just don’t know what to do. I can’t let him realize he’s getting to me, you know?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“But then how can I show that I’m onto him? I can’t let it go unacknowledged either. I have a reputation to maintain.”

“Wow.”

Sometimes Doyoung questions whether confiding in a snake really would be better than a hemming and hawing human pillow.

A weight settles on his head. Doyoung opens his eyes to a faceful of Taeyong’s hands, tapping away at his his phone right on top of Doyoung’s forehead.

The phone chirps.

Doyoung narrows his eyes. “That’s not _him,_ is it? You-know-who?”

“He’s my boyfriend, Doyoung, not some dumb movie villain with no face.”

“No nose,” Doyoung corrects reflexively. He takes one second to picture Taeyong dating a dumb movie villain with no nose, stupid laugh and all, and chokes on nothing. He contemplates whether it’s worth it to start a slappy fight in his current position. It’d be inconvenient, but he really doesn’t like the idea of being complicit in whatever gross stuff Taeyong’s sending his boyfriend, either. Doyoung’s presence is a gift, not a piece of furniture.

Taeyong’s fingers tangle into Doyoung’s hair to scratch at his scalp, and Doyoung subsides.

“You know what? I shouldn’t be giving him the satisfaction of freaking out this much over it anyways. If I could handle the Incident of 2016, I can handle this.”

“The fact that you still call it that says that you can’t.”

Doyoung slaps at Taeyong’s phone and mostly misses. “It’s simple! I’ll just avoid the problem. I don't have any classes with him right now, so if I never see him, I’ll never have to hint one way or the other! He can just suffer without me!”

This, of all things, finally convinces Taeyong to put his phone down and give Doyoung the attention he deserves. “Hello? He’s my friend? He’s _your_ friend?”

“Then I can just use you as a shield when we’re all together.” Doyoung senses the oncoming objection and heads it off. “In exchange, I am willing to hide your candy stash from your much more reasonable boyfriend.”

“Forcing me into sugar withdrawal is a crime,” Taeyong mutters. “It’s okay though, I have a plan for that already.”

Doyoung evaluates the likelihood of whether the plan is just to widen his eyes and pout slightly. It has a near 100% chance of working.

“Besides, you already know why this won’t work.”

But Doyoung tunes him out after that, already mentally patting himself on the back for another job well done.  
  
  
  
Two days later, Doyoung is forced to concede Taeyong’s point when there's a knock at his door.

He’d tried out the new strategy immediately, skipping get-togethers with his friends on the excuse that his last midterm had wiped him out. In the post-midterm lull, no one had the energy to call him on it, as he predicted. Doyoung’s genius reveals itself once again.

Then he opens the door to Nakamoto Yuta, a massive bucket of fried chicken, and an even larger stack of papers.

Doyoung wonders if the man has finally lost it. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean, what am I doing here? Is this not obviously a bucket of chicken with your name on it?”

Doyoung swats at him and confirms that his arm is firm under Doyoung’s hand. Probably not a hallucination.

“You’re such a hermit anyway, I figured I’d bring the work to you,” Yuta says, stepping in without permission and kicking off his shoes without needing to be asked. His pink socks contrast awfully with Doyoung’s rug and throw off the feng shui of the entire room.

Doyoung flushes. “Didn’t I tell you we could just do this over text?”

Yuta snorts. “You want to draw up territory maps and send them back and forth over text?”

Okay, point. Doyoung has seen the maps from earlier years. Legend has it, the complexity of the task enraged Do Kyungsoo to the point of hiding away in a piano practice room, just to scream at the soundproofed walls. They say you can still hear the ghostly echoes of those screams if you pull an all-nighter there during finals week.

“Anyway, I knew you’d want to hole up like this, so I figured I’d give you this one so you’d have to give in to my amazing arguments later.”

Doyoung scoffs at the thought. Sharing food is one thing – Doyoung knows better than to refuse free food – but admitting defeat is out of the question.

Yuta doesn’t answer, because he’s halfway across the room rummaging around in Doyoung’s fridge. Before Doyoung can protest the intrusion, Yuta moves on to the desk and plucks the only two highlighter colors he likes from the cup Doyoung keeps shoved behind his desk lamp. Then he plops down on the floor.

Doyoung will never understand this man.

“You can take the bed. This is better for my posture anyway.”

Yuta looks up at Doyoung and _expects_ things from him.  
  
  
  
Doyoung may have forgotten – well, willfully ignored – one important fact.

He and Yuta are running their last Clash together.  
  
  
  
Okay, so maybe Doyoung overlooked a few factors when he concocted this plan. That’s understandable. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing, and also a very simple plan. He could make modifications as the situation developed, he figured.

He never considered that avoidance only works if it goes both ways.

Normally, he’d argue, well, why would Yuta seek him out anyway? They’ve had their good Clash runs together before, sure, but that doesn’t apply outside of Clash season. Any cutting humor Doyoung can provide, Taeyong is capable of too, and Taeyong’s known Yuta longer. Granted, Taeyong will also believe half of the ridiculous yarns coming out of Yuta’s mouth, so he’s really not much of a substitute for Doyoung. And then there’s Ten, who does have his moments, but Doyoung doesn’t trust him not to enable Yuta and send the shenanigans to new heights. And let’s not even get started on Johnny.

So maybe Doyoung really is irreplaceable. Man, Doyoung wasn’t prepared to have someone so dependent on him so soon.

“Doyoung?”

Damn, Yuta caught him spacing out.

A hand appears in Doyoung’s face. “Hey, everything okay in there?” Yuta puts his hand to Doyoung’s forehead. “Did you catch that bug that got Yong last week?”

Doyoung feels the heat rising to his face and muffles a groan. That’ll just make it look worse – he will _not_ appear weak here on his home turf.

Doyoung slaps the hand away. “No, get off me. It’s nothing.”

But Yuta just frowns, and Doyoung hides a groan. The man has gotten started. There’s no stopping this crashing train now. “Oh yeah? What’s the last thing you ate?”

Doyoung opens his mouth. He remembers Ten dumping four packs of ramen into a bubbling pot at 2AM that morning. Doyoung tried to stop him from adding all of the hideously unhealthy flavor packs, but things got a little delirious at that time of day, you know? He closes his mouth.

Yuta nods. “What time did you go to bed last night?”

“I was helping Ten fix his shitty lab report!” Doyoung bursts out. “You know he uses Excel like a four-year-old. It was an act of charity!”

“But you dodged the question,” Yuta says triumphantly.

Before Doyoung can insist otherwise, Yuta manhandles him onto his back and trusses him up in his blankets until he can barely move his arms. In light of the fact that Yuta even manages to do that, maybe he has a point. Doyoung would never allow that if he were at 100%.

Doyoung feels an onslaught of deja vu. God, why does he keep ending up trapped like a human burrito at the hands of Yuta? He would have struggled more, but he took a moment too long to react to the sudden weight on him. Yuta was just way too close all of a sudden, and Doyoung had to screw his eyes shut before he turned even redder. What kind of treatment is this? Doyoung isn’t sick, but how can you treat a supposedly sick person this way?

“God, do I have to gag you to get you to shut up and go to sleep? Why are you such a pain?” Yuta says, turning off the lights and shoving on his shoes.

After Yuta leaves, Doyoung realizes he took all the work with him.  
  
  
  
Taeyong still sounds a little sniffly when they meet up in the common room a few days later, but Doyoung is in the peak of health, no thanks to Yuta. Out of respect for Taeyong’s recovering sinuses, Doyoung only slams his books on the table at half speed.

Yuta doesn’t even jump. Rude.

“I _will_ contribute to the Clash planning. Don’t make my decisions for me.” He feels a flush traveling up his neck under Yuta’s stare, and silently hopes Yuta will attribute it to his “cold”.

Wait, no, that gives Yuta more of an excuse to coddle him.

“I’m not making you do anything while you’re sick.”

“I told you, I’m not sick! _You’re_ sick! What is it with you and tying – and bundling me up, anyway?”

Taeyong chokes on his herbal tea. They both turn to thump him on the back, but he recovers on his own.

“Well then don’t take on too much when you’re tired!”

“Then _you_ stop being so pushy!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

Doyoung resists the sudden urge to cross his arms and stick out his tongue like they’re kids on the playground.

In silence, Taeyong pulls all of Doyoung’s books towards him to the center of the table and starts standing them up in a crooked line between their side and his. (Doyoung knows better than to try to use Taeyong as a shield when he’s already stretched thin.) His makeshift wall shudders with the table when something hits it. That something may be Doyoung’s foot, in a bout of frustration, but he will neither confirm nor deny.

“So!” Taeyong breaks in. “I’ve built this wall. Yes, it’s long and tall and amazing, thank you.” He pauses to let them take in his architectural genius. “If this wall falls down, I’m never editing anything for either of you ever again.” Now that’s a bit far to go for a joke, don’t you think?

But Taeyong isn’t here to play. “Understood?” he demands, and he doesn’t relent until they agree.

Yuta still has a hint of a smirk. Doyoung elbows him. Yuta ducks his head to hide a snort. Taeyong smacks the table for order, then groans in pain.

Because they don’t actually hate him, they settle down to work. Yuta went through some of the territory allotments by himself, because he’s a tyrant like that, but no man can handle all of it alone. If they make it through this part, they can move on to dividing up the players into teams, which will be a whole new pit of snakes.

Some territory divisions are easy, like setting up the arts building as a counterpart to the multicultural center, because both are a similar underfunded size. That’s the way it has been for all their years here, and most past assignments were sound.

Some past assignments were utter bullshit.

Doyoung doesn’t notice it at first, until he stops hearing the sound of Yuta’s pencil scratching on the map. Yuta’s hovering over an unmarked section of the map, where a few engineering buildings overlook a small courtyard Doyoung likes to nap in, come springtime. Doyoung hasn’t napped there in over a year, because the bitter memories attached to it keep him from sleeping. Doyoung already feels his hackles rising at the sight of it in 2D.

Yuta’s already grinning when Doyoung looks at him.  
  
  
  
Picture, if you will, a gangly little second-year. He hasn’t declared his major yet. He has cemented a position as a dependable junior in the Asian Student Association. It’s fast approaching Clash season, and he’s practically chomping at the bit to prove himself. Meet the Doyoung of two years ago.

“Doyoung, I am sorry, but you must carry on my legacy earlier than planned.”

Doyoung stares at the gun that’s just been thrust into his hands. It has cute little moons sharpied on down both sides, and duct tape wrapped around the barrel. As far as inheritances go, it has character, but little monetary value. He continues counting the tiny scribbles anyway. He can’t look up and make eye contact, because Taeil will hit him with the worst pout he’s ever seen in his life, and then Doyoung will have to fold just to put a stop to the travesty.

Maybe he should’ve seen this coming. After all, Taeil has been complaining for weeks about how his 300-level courses have him by the toes this semester. His Stardew Valley crops are dying. His vocal cords are drying out from lack of use, and they’ll snap the moment he goes for anything higher than a C6. (Doyoung’s pretty sure that’s not how vocal cords work.) Life is very hard right now if your name is Moon Taeil.

He’d accepted captainship of one side of the Clash under the assumption that his discussion seminars would be a piece of cake, but clearly hadn’t factored in the reading prep time expected to go into them. What kind of barbarian assigns a 40-page reading and actually expects you to answer questions about it?

Doyoung resolutely does not think about the lab reports lying in wait back in his dorm room.

He should evaluate this opportunity rationally, Doyoung thinks. Like a cost-benefit analysis. The primary benefit? Most people would go for the clout of taking command, but Doyoung can see multiple areas of potential here. If he becomes the general directing the troops – the player moving the chess pieces – he can become both the most important and most sedentary member at the same time. It’s a masterstroke.

The primary drawback would be, well, carrying on Taeil’s legacy, so to speak. If Doyoung inherits Taeil’s captainship position (informally), he supposes that means he inherits the feud with Yuta, too. When Taeil and Yuta got split up to opposite teams, everyone expected them to go on living their chill roommate life, with some small skirmishes every now and then. Instead, they immediately declared a roommate war. Doyoung has yet to find someone who understands what that means. If you bring it up to the two of them, Yuta just cocks his nerf gun meaningfully, and Taeil stares into the far distance and spouts some dramatic bullshit, like, “Well, you know how it is between men…”

Doyoung doesn’t, really, at all, but he can understand wanting wiping that smirk off of Nakamoto’s face. So that drawback isn’t much of a drawback when you think about it.

Doyoung accepts.  
  
  
  
It goes shockingly well for the first couple of weeks. Doyoung devises a master plan to take over the science quad, so he can walk between classes without his gun loaded at all times. After some trials, Taeil manages to tame the beast of back-to-back reading assignments, by playing podcasts in the background and technically not actually doing them. (Doyoung is not Taeil’s professor, and carefully does not have an opinion on this.) The other Clashers take to having Doyoung as their new leader well enough. Doyoung has even found time to perform some surveillance of the enemy, which Doyoung’s friends call creepy and Doyoung calls due diligence.

It’s all coming together.  
  
  
  
The girl at the counter looks from Doyoung to the battalion of first-years hovering behind him. She visibly inches back, Doyoung’s serving of rice held hostage in her hands.

Doyoung isn’t nearly so worried. Whatever they’re here for, it’s definitely not to launch an assault. Bringing the fight into eating areas has been strictly forbidden ever since the incident where Mark almost choked on a stray bullet that landed in his soup. Mark hates it when they bring it up, which means that Donghyuck reenacts it every time the dining hall serves soup.

The first-years seem to turn five shades paler when he turns to them. This can’t be good. Doyoung shoves away the beginnings of a tension headache forming between his temples.

“Okay, what is it?”

Dejun comes forward to lay a solemn hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. He takes a deep breath. He visibly steels himself. Doyoung is already filled with dread.

“They got him, Doyoung.” Doyoung feels his face go blank with shock. “They got Jeno.”

Doyoung’s mind blanks for a moment, before it registers that the pain in his palms is from his clenched fists.

“Damn them!”

The rest are already nodding grimly, hands tightening around their weapons. Doyoung could brain someone with his lunch tray right now.

He recenters himself by thinking of pleasant things, like jazzy 9th chords. Some controlled breaths in and out.

“Well then, we’ll just have to teach them a lesson.”  
  
  
  
Honestly, it’s all within the bounds of fair play – the game-runners decided to update the rule about taking prisoners this year, giving a deadline of 24 hours for the prisoner’s team to rescue them before they were disqualified. Jeno doesn’t have any more classes today, so there won’t be any convenient points to attack when his captors deliver him to his classroom. They’ll have to venture into enemy territory to get him back.

Well, Doyoung already planned to send them running with their tails between their legs anyway. He won’t object to a head start.

The thing is, Jeno is goodness incarnate. He’s the culmination of all that’s kind and pure and true in the world. He’s the perfect ASA mentee, the most trustworthy cat dad, a nerf marksman second only to Jungwoo and Doyoung himself. Last week, he stole the last bite of Doyoung’s froyo from his hand and stuck out his tongue at Doyoung with some of it still there, which was disgusting. Doyoung loves him like a son from his own womb.

Doyoung would tear anyone limb from limb to get him back. Metaphorically speaking, of course.  
  
  
  
They make it to the enemy “jail” in record time.

Doyoung holds up a hand. The rest stumble to a halt behind him, leaving him to check who they’re dealing with. It’s just his luck that he spots Kun and Ten first, lounging on either side of Jeno, guns resting in their laps. Of course. He wouldn’t put it past them to steal his son just to spite him.

He hopes they haven’t held Jeno for too long. Who knows what kind of torture they would subject him to… Doyoung can’t let him be corrupted.

“Hey guys!” Jeno pipes up. Doyoung jerks his head back, but it’s too late. They’ve been spotted.

The cat in Jeno’s lap protests loudly at the interruption to his petting. “Sorry, Leon. Ack, no, Louis, stop –” What happened to the intimidatingly graceful dancer Doyoung has been mentoring for the past several months? Who is this flailing impostor who dares to wear his face?

Louis ignores Jeno and carries on dragging out one hoodie string hooked on his claw, like entrails from prey.

Doyoung gapes in disbelief. He can’t believe his friends would pull out their final, most devastating weapon.

Kittens.

It may already be too late for Jeno. Doyoung mourns what could have been.

What follows is fifteen minutes of furious negotiation. Renjun wants to decide who takes Jeno by way of a vicious duel, no-holds-barred. Kun counters with an offer in exchange for control of the student center, which is definitely just because he’s tired of having to sprint into the convenience store for his chips like a wanted criminal. Dejun wants to turn traitor and join the team that has cats.

Jeno has the audacity to ask if they can just give him up, so he can spend the rest of the day here, pretending life is all kitties no homework.

God, no more. Doyoung isn’t strong enough for this.

By the time they work something out, the last rays of the afternoon are breaking across the grass outside.  
  
  
  
If that wasn’t demeaning enough, when they rush from the dorm towards the engineering buildings, it’s directly into an ambush.

For a few seconds, Doyoung sees the open path ahead, the cheesy uni recruiting banners fluttering on either side, the setting sun over his department’s building in the distance… then he hears yelling.

His worst fear comes true: the enemy is smart enough to recognize the courtyard as a chokepoint. Before Doyoung can shout out a warning, they’re surrounded. They fall back into a tight circle, guns at the ready, for what good they’ll do.

And then the final straw: the crowd parts, and who strides through but Nakamoto Yuta.

Doyoung can still picture it, years later. The setting sun behind Yuta turning his figure into an unfairly dramatic silhouette. The tension of the threatening figures all around, blocking off any chance of escape.

Doyoung will admit, he lost his head a bit at that point. He’s not sure, but what others told him afterward was that he raised his gun, shouted something that sounded like it came straight out of a movie, and then charged head-on. The then-first-years had told him his final stand was very cool and inspiring, which was kind of them. They couldn’t seem to agree on what exactly his cool quote was, though, which threw their version of the story into doubt. Doyoung does have to admit that the story seems to check out on some level. Yuta had already embarrassed him once at that point. He wasn’t about to let that happen again.

He didn’t end up having much of a choice in the matter.

After the crowds dispersed, Doyoung stared at the bullets littered across the ground. They’d been squashed underfoot a hundred times over at that point, and wouldn’t be much use in the Clash from then on. Just like Doyoung himself.

He just felt like he had such high hopes, and then he just turned out to be some upstart second-year with an inflated head just like all the others.

He picked up the first bullet.

They’d be worse than useless if he just left them here to take millions of years to decay on the grass. Plus, Taeyong would kill him for littering.

The second bullet disappeared before he could touch it.

He looked up to find it in Yuta’s hand, the other second-year crouched down in the mud beside him.

Doyoung doesn’t quite trust his memory on what happened next. But he thinks – he could’ve sworn Yuta _congratulated_ him on a good effort as an unofficial team leader, slapped him on the shoulder, and held out that bullet to him, palm up.

It may have been good manners on Yuta’s part, but Doyoung bristled at the thought that he would need validation from another upstart second-year no better than him.

Even so, Yuta helped him pick up every last bullet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i read this prompt and just started laughing every time i contemplated it, so i knew it was the one  
> \- i feel like when you asked for “some history” for doyu, you may not have meant sprinting around after each other with nerf guns, but uh. here you go  
> \- happy holidays!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi, i added a couple of new tags

You see, it would all be fine if Yuta weren’t so considerate sometimes. Doyoung could just go through life in peace with the occasional recreational trip to pick on Yuta and mock his tastes in animation.

But no, Yuta is an attentive friend. He hunts you down in the practice rooms when it gets too late (Taeyong), or tailors his jokes to you until you feel comfortable roasting him back (Jungwoo), or gives you the quiet, steady support you need through your self-imposed academic crises (Taeil). He hits Doyoung right where it hurts – he compliments his skill for the Clash and pushes him to be better all at once. What is Doyoung supposed to do, say no?   
  
  
  
Honestly, Doyoung would have an easier time of it if Yuta weren’t so ridiculous sometimes. Sometimes Yuta says the stupidest shit, and Doyoung can barely believe it’s the same person.

“C’mon, you have to believe me.” Yuta throws his hands out wide. “It was some crazy shit, I’ll admit. Even I didn’t see the army of experimental barista robots coming. But think about it. Would I lie to you?”

_Yes,_ Doyoung screams, in his head, but not out loud, because they’re in a library, albeit a section that allows talking.

Jeno’s leaning half out of his seat, captivated. Doyoung has got to give that kid a talk sometime on gullibility and letting unscrupulous business majors take advantage of you.

“So there I was, a puppy under each arm – they were some wriggly little bastards, let me tell you – and you’ll never guess who showed up next.” At this, Yuta raises a brow, clearly waiting for a flood of guesses.

Jeno falls for it, of course. “I don’t know, was it… the dean? The uni president?”

Yuta shakes his head in amusement. “It was… the queen herself.” He lowers his voice to a whisper for maximum effect. “Kwon Boa.” Then he makes a dramatic gesture like he’s dropping a mic no one gave him.

“No way!”

“Doyoung can confirm,” Yuta says casually. “He was helping me carry the fish tank.”

God, now Jeno will expect this song and dance from Doyoung too. Would it kill Yuta to keep his nonsense contained to a smaller radius?

“Right, Doyo?” Yuta winks at him.

Jeno’s giving Doyoung those awed eyes now, which would have been flattering if they had any logical basis. Doyoung has to put a stop to this.

“I have never seen this man in my life,” he says firmly. “Security!”

It’s almost gallery-worthy, the image of the stupid grins sliding off their faces.

“Doyoung, how could you? I’ve been to your house. I’ve met your parents!”

Doyoung scowls at the memory. Sure, it’d been unpleasant to see Yuta trying to hide how sad he was about spending the holidays alone in a new country, but he’s still not sure getting rid of that frown had been worth the sight of Yuta getting chummier with Doyoung’s parents in five minutes than Doyoung had in twenty years. “Yeah, and someday I’ll figure out how you got them on your side so quickly.”

Yuta deflects, saying that he’s simply the perfect houseguest, but Doyoung will drag the truth out of him someday. He knows for a fact that Yuta isn’t the perfect houseguest. If he were, he wouldn’t be rooting around in Doyoung’s fridge unannounced every week.

Yuta doesn’t stay for long after that, complaining about some kind of case study packet that honestly sounds like it’d be put to better use as fire kindling.

Doyoung isn’t sorry to see him go. Maybe now Doyoung can have an actual intelligent conversation with Jeno in his absence. Also, Yuta has always focused better in smaller spaces, not crowded ones like the library.

Jeno turns to Doyoung. “Wow, I didn’t know you guys were that far along!”

“Huh?”

“Do you think you could give me advice?” Jeno looks genuinely excited for these inquiries that make no sense.

“Huh??”

“Relationship advice!”

Doyoung’s mind stalls for a solid ten seconds. Relationship? Him and… who? Yuta? They were trying to stuff salad leaves down each other’s shirts two hours ago. In what world do they look like a couple?

Why would Jeno feel the need to ask about that, anyway?

“Wait, are you _seeing_ someone? Is someone deflowering my sweet Jeno?”

“Please don’t say it like that,” Jeno says, pained.

“No, I need to know,” Doyoung starts, but relents. “Okay, I won’t. Is someone wooing my sweet Jeno?”

Jeno gives a half-shug, which is basically an affirmative.

“Is it someone from one of your classes? Have I met them?” Doyoung has to wait for Jeno’s responses, but he's already formulating his next questions in his mind. Has Jeno known them long? Are they nice to him?

But then Jeno speaks.

“Doyoung.”

He tenses.

“I know you’re asking because you care, but I’ll tell you when I’m – when we’re ready. And I know you’ll respect that, because you care about me.” Then he finishes it off with a classic devastating Lee Jeno eye-smile, and that’s that.

Doyoung lets his mouth snap shut, abashed.

Jeno lets the silence congeal between them for a few beats, so that it really sinks in. Then he opens his mouth again to torment Doyoung further.

“So how long have you guys been dating?”   
  
  
  
“I just don’t understand why he wouldn’t tell me! Does he think I wouldn’t approve? Does he think I’ll embarrass him?”

Ten leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, to give Doyoung a saccharine smile that he hates. “Doyoung sweetie. I know your mind revolves around how _you_ think things should go, but not everyone thinks that way.”

Doyoung ignores this non-contribution with ease.

“God, is this what it feels like when they leave the nest? Is he going through his rebellious phase?”

“Those are completely different things,” Kun points out mildly without looking up from his e-textbook. Across from him, Taeyong doesn’t even bother lifting his head from where it’s pillowed in his arms.

Wow, the wind sure is noisy today.

Doyoung throws up his hands. “And I can’t believe he would have the audacity to hide this from me and then act like I’m dating Yuta! What gives?”

“Yes, exactly,” Ten says calmly. “How could something like that happen?”

Wait. Ten’s agreeing with him. That means there’s something wrong with what Doyoung just said.

Is it _not_ completely preposterous that someone would think he’s dating Yuta?

“Wait, do people think we’re dating?”

Ten barks out a laugh. Kun clicks his tablet shut, in an, _oh, this ought to be good_ kind of way.

Doyoung looks between them in genuine confusion. “But how?”

“You’re around each other all the time. He brings you stuff. You let him get away with shit you’d never let go with me.” Ten counts off a finger for each of these points, then adds another. “Hell, you’ve even agreed to fly to Japan with him at some point in the future.”

“Well, yeah,” Doyoung says. “I need to get back at him for getting on my parents’ good side so quickly.”

Ten nods. “Okay. Do you speak Japanese?”

“I’m studying!”

“Because of Yuta,” Kun points out.

“And all this just for one man,” Ten sighs. “I thought you were better than this.”

Doyoung can think of plenty of things Ten has done just for one man. The man is even sitting right there with them. Maybe Doyoung should remind Ten of some of them.

Apparently Ten can sense the threat in Doyoung’s expression, because he bulldozes on.

“And you’re always nagging at each other to take care of yourselves! Which is fair, actually, but Yuta actually keeps going and makes sure you do it.”

“But that’s what friends do!” Doyoung bursts out. “Taeyong does that all the time! Even last week he was –”

“Helping Johnny,” Ten completes triumphantly. For a second, Doyoung thinks about what “help” probably means to people like Taeyong and Johnny, and tries not to gag. “Like, sure, we want to make sure you don’t keel over and die, but we’re not going to manhandle you into it the way Yuta does. Well, unless it’s an emergency, I guess.”

As if Doyoung would let this twerp manhandle him. “But we fight all the time. What couple would do nothing but bicker?”

Taeyong gestures wordlessly between Ten and Kun. Ten starts to puff up like an offended cat, but calms down at Kun’s hand on his arm.

“I – we can’t –” Doyoung holds his head in his hands to keep the thoughts inside from spinning out of control.

At this, Taeyong finally picks up his head and sighs. “Oh, Doyoung.” He sounds like he’s talking to a child who jammed his nerf gun by shoving something else in and has now come to an adult to fix the toy they didn’t think he should have in the first place. (The specificity of that comparison is a front, of course. Doyoung has no experience with that particular feeling.)

Taeyong fixes Doyoung with a stern look. “Okay, let’s… do a thought exercise. We can walk through this. Remember last year?”

“You’ll have to be more specific,” Doyoung says sourly. He remembers a lot of things from last year, like Taeyong’s betrayal, for instance.

If Taeyong senses the direction of Doyoung’s thoughts, his face shows no sign of it. To the side, Ten and Kun have fallen silent, apparently leaving this one to him. Taeyong reaches across the table to clasp Doyoung’s hands in both of his own. So this is going to be a long one, huh.

“Well, okay, you ran around with Yuta for last year’s Clash, right?”   
  
  
  
Rewind back: one year ago. The setting is the science library. The time is way too late in the afternoon for this nonsense.

Doyoung is just about buried up to his eyeballs in cell bio vocab. He’s swimming in the cytoplasm with a Golgi apparatus and some endoplasmic reticulum. He’s losing every last marble he has.

It’s one of his weekly meetups with Jaehyun. Mind you, Doyoung wouldn’t call them “study dates”, per se.

Don’t get this twisted. Doyoung just appreciates Jaehyun because he’s a simple friend. They met in an introductory-level ecology class last year, and Jaehyun has been dependably assisting Doyoung with his finals study guides ever since. Granted, that’s probably so he can leech off of Doyoung’s notes like the baby-faced parasite he is, but at least his companionship comes with free coffee.

Usually he shows up with a coffee in each hand, one for each of them, but today he seems to have forgotten. Doyoung was willing to let it slide in light of the imminent exam, but Jaehyun has been scatterbrained all afternoon. He hasn’t typed a single word into the section of the document assigned to him. He keeps staring off in the distance towards the library entrance… or maybe, Doyoung thinks, the librarian’s desk.

Where Dong Sicheng is reclined all the way back in his dingy little chair, playing some game on his phone out in the open, because apparently he fears no god on earth or in heaven.

In fact, Doyoung can spot the telltale logo of the cafe Jaehyun always goes to, on a cup at Sicheng’s elbow. Doyoung has a sneaking suspicion about some things, the first being what happened to his coffee. The second is that perhaps there’s a specific reason Jaehyun started insisting on meeting during this time slot every week.

Doyoung snaps his fingers in front of Jaehyun’s face. He only relishes Jehyun’s startled jump a little bit before he goes for the kill. “Jaehyun. Just go talk to him.”

Jaehyun’s ears light up like a wildfire, which ruins his attempt at nonchalance. “I can’t. He’s working! _I’m_ working!”

“Oh, are you?” Doyoung sneers and nudges Jaehyun’s book, which hasn’t been turned past the title page. “You could’ve fooled me.”

Jaehyun flushes and buries his face in his textbook in shame, as he should.

Doyoung considers his next course of action. If they don’t do something about this, Jaehyun will be useless for the rest of the day. Jaehyun has already been useless for almost two hours. Doyoung will certainly not be compiling all these terms and definitions by himself.

A crashing sound comes from the entrance before he can decide. The library gates start beeping madly to announce a would-be theft passing through. Unfortunately, the poor soul just walked _in,_ so that’s impossible.

Then the figure straightens. Doyoung’s lip curls. Of course it’d be Yuta.

At least the commotion broke Jaehyun out of his bout of self-pity. They both watch as Yuta walks up to the desk and starts gesticulating at Sicheng excitedly. Sicheng is even listening and nodding back. Doyoung chances a glance at his study partner: Jaehyun has his jaw clenched, his arms crossed. He has transformed into a growling attack dog on all levels except physical. Doyoung can relate. He almost feels his metaphorical hackles rising too, probably at the sight of Yuta pestering some innocent bystander.

But then Yuta spots Doyoung looking at him and lights up. He bounds over before Doyoung can do something drastic like dive under the table.

“Doyoung! Hi! Have you seen yet?”

Jaehyun looks constipated, like he can’t decide whether to be offended that Yuta ignored him, or relieved that Yuta has left Sicheng alone.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Seen what? Speak plainly, Nakamoto.”

“Oh come on, is that how you talk to your new captain for this year?” Yuta teases. And of course Yuta would turn out to be an unprofessional leader once he officially gets the job. Doyoung’s going to have his work cut out for him – wait, what?

“What did you just say?”

“Team assignments are out! You’re on my team,” Yuta announces. He nods at Jaehyun. “You’re on the other team with Winko and a bunch of sophomores I don’t know,” he tells him.

Now Jaehyun faces a new dilemma: smile because he’s with Sicheng, or frown because Yuta calls him Winko?

“So!” Yuta continues. “That’s not why I came. Or I guess, not the only reason. Guess what! I’m a captain this year!”

Doyoung and Jaehyun have no response for this information that Yuta spoiled already.

“Doyoung, will you be my second in command?”

If Doyoung had received the coffee that was rightfully his, he would have spat it out just now. “Excuse me? Are you joking?”

“Not at all! I wanted to check with you before I started planning around it,” Yuta says earnestly.

“You can’t be serious,” Doyoung says. “You can’t actually want that. Want me – as your second.”

Yuta’s smile doesn’t dim even one watt. “Clearly you need some time to consider. Well, think about it, okay? I’ll wait!” Then he pats Doyoung’s shoulder and walks away.

Doyoung watches him go, resisting the urge to just bury his head in the table and scream. What the hell is that guy playing at?

Doyoung senses Jaehyun’s judgment from miles away. “What?”

Apparently this is serious enough that Jaehyun is looking at Doyoung instead of watching to see if Yuta talks to Sicheng on his way out. Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at him. “You do realize that clearly Yuta respects you if he wants to ask for your help?”

“ _Him?_ Ask _me_ for help?” Don’t make Doyoung laugh.

“You were here. You heard him. Want me to repeat everything for you since clearly it didn’t sink in the first time?” Jaehyun takes in Doyoung’s mulish expression, then says, “Not everyone seizes up at the thought of asking for help, you know.”

You know what, that’s it.

Doyoung stalks right up to the circulation desk and stabs a finger at Jaehyun. “See that idiot over there?”

Sicheng nods, already sliding his phone away into a back pocket.

“He needs help, but he’s too shy to ask,” Doyoung declares, then stalks away.

Then he leaves Jaehyun to face his rising panic alone.   
  
  
  
Doyoung accepts the position from Yuta. Half their friend group is there when he does. It’s very embarrassing.   
  
  
  
Doyoung’s still thinking about it even a couple of weeks later, when the Clash has already started and he’s supposed to be scoping out the east corridor for the enemy.

He reloads his gun with grim efficiency. Slips out around the corner of this building and sprints to the next.

Why did Yuta ask him?

It’s not like he’s had that much success even as a de facto team leader in the past. Yuta should know; he was there for the whole stinking grand finale. Why would Yuta recruit the fallen enemy he helped put in the ground?

He figures he might as well ask, and does.

Yuta doesn’t answer at first, because they’re busy skulking around behind the anthropology department. He gives Doyoung a hand signal. Doyoung nods. Yuta runs out, and Doyoung covers his exit, gun at the ready. They regroup at the back entrance of another building.

“Honestly? I was really impressed that you took charge last year. Sure, Taeil would’ve been great, but you did really well for someone who stepped in unexpectedly.”

Doyoung’s not sure what’s so impressive about that. He did that for the clout, and moreover, he failed.

“I don’t know why they didn’t ask you to be team captain, honestly. Like, yeah, Joohyun’s a senior, but I’m not, and she hasn’t been leading from the ground since her second year, you know? You’re practically overqualified for this thing.”

Doyoung pretends to fiddle with his gun to hide his reaction. Now that’s just a gross exaggeration on Yuta’s part.

“But don’t tell her I said that. She scares me.” Yuta peers out, then gives the signal for all clear.

“She’s less than 160 cm tall, and she scares you?” Doyoung repeats blankly.

Yuta laughs as they run. “Anyone who can run in heels that tall while operating a nerf gun with nails that long is superhuman,” Yuta tells him. “Also, I tripped over her girlfriend’s backpack once in art class, and I really thought she was going to go all-out Super Saiyan on me.”

Yuta takes art? Isn’t he supposed to be a soulless business major?

But more importantly, Yuta thinks he’s impressive? Impressive enough to rival _Joohyun_ , who supposedly scares him? What kind of timeline is this?

Then they have to jump in to save a little first-year, and Doyoung doesn’t get the chance to ponder it further.   
  
  
  
“Well then.”

Doyoung looks to Yuta. Yuta shrugs. Doyoung scowls.

What the hell is going on here?

According to the Plan, which Doyoung lovingly sketched out and Yuta obviously contributed almost nothing to, they’re on schedule to rendezvous with Taeyong on the path by the arts buildings. It’s out of sight from enemy territory and also on Taeyong’s home turf.

There's not a lock of aqua blue hair in sight.

Doyoung actually put effort into making sure his friend would have a post he liked. So why isn’t he here?

There’s a suspicious yelp off to the side, where a group of trees creates a pool of shade. Shit, maybe someone ambushed him. Taeyong is the very image of punctuality. He would never stand them up like this. Doyoung gestures at the spot with his gun, and Yuta nods. They approach in silence.

Nothing prepares them for what they see next.

Honestly, for the first seconds, Doyoung can’t even comprehend it.

Then the truth slams into him. They’ve just walked in on a couple. Making out, in public.

Well, that is indeed a head of aqua blue hair, somewhere in that mess of limbs. Clearly Taeyong got _busy_ instead of waiting for them. And, oh, those legs definitely belong to Johnny. If their sheer length didn’t make it obvious, the hipstery shoes would have. Also, that armband is definitely in enemy colors.

Looks like Taeyong finally made a move. Maybe Ten’s months of pressuring him finally paid off.

God, why couldn’t Taeyong channel his pent-up frustrations into a hunt for Johnny or something instead? Give him a little chase? At least take him out of the game before slurping on half his face? Doyoung could have planned this out better if Taeyong had just told him. They could have used Johnny's greatest weakness against him. It’d be a crafty way to get rid of a major threat.

Yuta elbows him and whispers. “Let’s, uh. Let’s just go.”

Doyoung fake-retches. What is this star-crossed lovers crap, anyway? Come on, Taeyong.

Well, at least Doyoung’s friends will be happy together, finally. All those shy glances and dumb jokes were starting to get on his nerves.

Now if only his other dumb friends could get it together.   
  
  
  
“WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS!” Yuta screams. “WHO TOLD THEM THEY COULD DO THAT!”

“I DON’T KNOW,” Doyoung screams back.

Yuta drops to the ground, dragging Doyoung with him. Doyoung would complain, but the whirl of bullets over their heads cuts him off.

He swallows. The sheer amount of ammunition leaving the air is enough for two squads to mutually wipe each other out. Which is objectively hilarious, because it’s just two people.

Ten leaps in front of them with a battle cry. Doyoung shrieks shrilly and scrambles back. Yuta grabs him to stop him from banging his head on the wall behind them. Ten doesn’t even notice any of this, because then Kun launches himself over the wall too, and takes off in a dead sprint to chase Ten down the hill.

Doyoung sags back against the wall once they’re out of sight, hearing Yuta heave a sigh beside him.

There have never been explicit rules about using modified nerf guns, because past teams always focused on territory strategies and person-to-person matchups. The game-runners just assumed the game would stay that way, and so did the captains. The Clash is a source of absolute chaos every year already; why would anyone knowingly decide to make it worse?

Maybe Doyoung should have paid more attention when Ten agreed to defend the hill path alone with no hesitation.

But how was he supposed to know that Ten would end up attaching what looks like five separate unsanctioned mods to his gun in the weeks leading up to the Clash? They’ve only seen two in action so far. Doyoung doesn’t want to stick around for the other three. How did Ten even manage to build all that in? His artistic media of choice are all 2D, and he doesn’t have much interest in working out the engineering problems inherent in building this type of thing. But as soon as Doyoung poses the question, he knows the answer.

Wong Yukhei.

Okay, so when Doyoung thinks about it, Ten has both the creativity and the resources to get this done. But then how was he supposed to know that _both_ Ten and Kun would go overboard like that? Kun is supposed to be the sensible one, and usually he sticks to that image.

Unless provoked, Doyoung suddenly remembers. Like by someone taking the labelled petri dish he and Doyoung had prepared for a bio lab. Or by almost anything that comes out of Ten’s mouth.

This implies that Ten not only chose an underhanded strategy, but revealed some of it to the enemy to goad Kun to reciprocate, which is way outside the bounds of acceptable behavior. Doyoung didn’t raise Ten from their first first of college to be like this.

Doyoung will scold him about it once Ten runs out of bullets.

Really, Doyoung thinks, someone should have realized that once Kun and Ten were put on opposite teams, no one else would exist for them except for each other. Doyoung and Yuta might as well be extra lamp posts along the path for all Ten cares.

They should probably just leave Ten to it. Kun's chasing Ten down the side of the hill facing away from campus center, so there’s a good chance they’ll stay in the area and out of anyone else’s way.

Doyoung kicks a pebble and watches it skitter along the path. “God, why are all our friends like this.”

“Buckling to the pressure of UST?” Yuta says.

“Complete idiots,” Doyoung corrects.

Yuta laughs instead of answering, and Doyoung lets it go. They have better things to do, like meet up with two squads from the east, descend on an enemy squad to terrorize them from the trees, and then disperse in all directions, laughing like mad. Doyoung came up with it, Yuta led the charge into it, and the whole thing fell together like clockwork.

Running one side of the Clash with Yuta might actually be – does Doyoung dare say it? – fun.

Doyoung and Yuta end up separated from the rest when they flee into the history department. They hunker down there, watched over by stern history poster faces.

Doyoung hasn’t seen some of his friends in hours. Taeyong because he’s all but abandoned the Clash, and Ten because he’s abandoned all _but_ the Clash. Well, his one-on-one clash with Kun, that is. If that’s what they’re calling it these days.

After the day they’ve had, the stillness of the empty department is almost peaceful. Doyoung can finally start healing the mental wounds from watching his friends’ ridiculous mating rituals today.

Then Yuta turns to him, and says, “Hey, let’s make a deal.”

And then, well, you know how this goes.

Then, of course, the cavalry arrives, and Doyoung loses the chance to speak, the game, and his last shred of sanity all at once.   
  
  
  
“So what you’re really saying is, we got you farther along with Yuta than you ever got by yourself,” Ten says.

“Have you lost your mind?” Doyoung glares at him. “I’m telling you that you contributed to my impending breakdown and I demand repayment.”

To be honest, Doyoung isn’t sure why he’s still here. Clearly whatever thought experiment Taeyong wanted to run had devolved when he had to leave. (He left for dance practice, but not without forcing Doyoung to look him in the eye and nod along as he said some self-affirming words. Doyoung wonders if he should be concerned at how often his meetings with friends seem to turn into therapy sessions these days.) Now Doyoung’s stuck third-wheeling these clowns he calls friends. He can’t even complain about it, because then they’ll tell him he could turn it into a double date if he just got his shit together for once.

Unfortunately, it’d take a lot more than some rude, unsolicited advice to get rid of Doyoung now. After all, the bonds of friendship forged in Bio 101 are ironclad and eternal. Kun was his 8AM lab partner. Doyoung will not forget his sacrifice.

Not that Doyoung isn’t tempted to just dump the two of them and be done with it when Ten tries to pester him into spoiling which teams he assigned them to.

It’s not like it’s such a mystery anyway. As the most ridiculous couple ever, they’re actually banned from joining different teams, because them targeting each other is even worse than them tag-teaming someone else. It simply isn’t worth the collateral damage.

It’s Kun you have to watch out for. Ten wears his unhinged side proudly, but Kun? Kun keeps it in a back pocket for special occasions.

Honestly, everything about divvying up teams is a mortal nightmare. Doyoung has a preemptive headache just thinking about the chart Yuta started drawing up. Every time they get it out, the planning session just turns into a session of mutually despairing over the sheer number of people who are romantically involved with each other in their lives.

Doyoung shudders. He shouldn’t be thinking about it while hanging out with friends anyway. He tunes back in only to find that Ten has turned to Kun to pester him instead. Right now, he’s picking up Kun’s fingers one by one and giving them individual voices, all cutely asking him if he won’t go pick up a cup of boba for his thirsty little Qin-Qin.

On second thought, Doyoung thinks it might be time to astral-project into another dimension.   
  
  
  
Doyoung doesn’t get anything else out of that interaction besides more mental scarring, but he’s mature enough to admit that maybe Taeyong was onto something when he suggested that thought experiment. Looking at his problems from new angles can only be beneficial. Why didn’t Doyoung think of that before?

For example, Doyoung hasn’t thought to ask: disregarding whatever the ultimate goal is for Yuta’s nefarious plan, why is that plan working? How is Yuta getting to him? Why does Yuta get under his skin so much?

If it were someone else asking, Doyoung would snap back that that’s just how Yuta is, but in his own mind he can acknowledge the weakness of that explanation.

Doyoung takes a second to wonder if Ten made such a point out of people thinking they’re dating because it relates to this dilemma, but he doubts it. So what if Doyoung and Yuta have a dynamic that people misinterpret as romantic – why would that affect Doyoung’s reactions? Anyway, even if other people are making that mistake, all that matters is that Doyoung and Yuta know what they’re doing, which they do. Right?

Right.

Doyoung can’t let this situation drag on too long. He has important things to do, like figuring out the identity of Jeno’s mystery partner. Is it Donghyuck? Doyoung bets it’s Donghyuck. Doyoung has never trusted the look of that kid.

So for Jeno’s sake, Doyoung really has to sit down and think hard on this one. Once he does, he comes to a surprisingly simple answer.

No matter the details of the evil plan, it only works because Doyoung lets it. He lets Yuta get to him.

Okay. Doyoung feels better with that insight, even if it’s alarming. So he has turned out to be his own weakness. Fine. What's an actionable path forward for the future?

Clearly avoiding Yuta and ignoring the problem is no good. Maybe Doyoung needs to play along for a bit, gather more intel on the situation. Yuta isn’t the most subtle, especially when he’s trying to be. The truth will come out.

Okay, he can handle that. Doyoung nods to himself, his new path decided.   
  
  
  
“Guys, I’ve got it. I think I’m, like, some kind of genius.”

Doyoung sincerely doubts that, but he flaps a hand at Mark to continue.

“Okay, get this. What if you bring in the concept of equivalent exchange, like in Fullmetal Alchemist? Like, a person for a person, or a person for a gun, or even like on the arm and leg level! If Edward Elric can do it, why can’t we, am I right?”

Mark turns his wide, sparkly eyes on them, but Doyoung is too hardened and bitter inside by now to fall for it.

The rest of the table doesn’t respond either. Mark deflates like a popped balloon.

Yuta clears his throat. “Okay, well, how about this? Doyo keeps shooting me down on this one, but I think it could really shake things up, bring something new into the game.” Yuta looks excited, which is already a bad sign. Doyoung doesn’t even know what to expect, because he and Yuta have shot down so many of each other’s ideas by this point.

“Mass resurrection.”

Yuta looks from face to face with anticipation, as if they’re supposed to understand before he explains anything.

Taeyong wrinkles his nose. “Like zombies?”

“No, no, like in Naruto! Oh wait – okay, like pre-Fourth-War Naruto. Like, uh… you know what, let’s just pretend that last arc of it never happened.”

“Like Nagato at the end of the invasion arc,” Johnny says, nodding sagely. “I got you.”

“Spoilers!” Ten screeches from the end of the table, not because he actually cares, but because he wants to feel included. Even if he has no real input or desire to contribute to a conversation about Naruto.

Kun looks politely disinterested. He’s taking advantage of Ten’s distraction to sneak extra vegetables into his bowl.

Doyoung is staring at the bubbling soup in the center of the table and contemplating death by hotpot. It’d be an inefficient way to go, but so delicious… and he wouldn’t have to sit through all this drivel anymore.

Okay, maybe Yuta has a point. Doyoung needs more sleep.

He’s forced back to paying attention when two things happen: one, Yuta starts another sentence with “Doyo”, and two, Taeyong stretches out his chopsticks directly in front of Doyoung’s face to pick up a piece of meat from the other side of the table.

Like all the other times, Doyoung eyes the offending arm with no emotion and doesn't budge an inch. He’s not here to indulge Taeyong in his antics. It took Doyoung a few tries to figure out what Taeyong was trying to signal to him, but then he realized it was every time Yuta started a sentence with Doyoung’s name. Okay, so Yuta talks about him a lot. So what? Doyoung already established that he’s an irreplaceable presence in Yuta’s life.

So Doyoung’s just going to stay put and maintain eye contact with Taeyong until the idiot realizes this exercise is futile. They might be here a while. Taeyong’s stubbornness is legendary. Also, he keeps dropping the piece of beef he’s trying to get, because the angle is more difficult from across the entire table.

Doyoung is just about ready to shove Taeyong away and grab the beef for him, when Yuta suddenly grabs Taeyong’s arm. They both freeze and stare at him.

Yuta sighs. “Your sleeve was about to go into the food.”

Doyoung snorts, and Taeyong glares at him.

From Taeyong’s other side, Johnny laughs, rolls up Taeyong’s sleeves, and kisses Taeyong’s wrist when he fake-glares at him.

Ten turns up his nose. “That’s real cute, Suh, but quit trying to come for our spot as #1 cutest couple. You’ll never be able to compete.”

Johnny laughs again, but in a way that says “you’ll regret saying that”, and Taeyong looks like he’s contemplating climbing into Johnny’s lap right then and there.

Good lord. If they get thrown out of a restaurant again, Doyoung’s suing them all for compensation. For now, he just puts his face in his hands and groans.

“Oh c’mon, Doyoung.” Yuta says with no sympathy. “What were you even expecting when we were only going to be wheels number five and six around here?”

“Well excuse me for wanting to have a nice night out with my friends, Mr. Wheel Number Six,” Doyoung shoots back. Doesn’t Doyoung deserve nice things?

“Oh no no, I think you’ve made a mistake,” Yuta wags a finger at him. “I’m Mr. Fifth. You, my dear, are Mr. Seventh. It’s a great number! You should be proud.”

“Then who’s sixth?” Doyoung demands. Aren’t business people supposed to have at least basic math skills?

“Mister Mark Lee himself, obviously.”

“What kind of vehicle are we talking about here?” asks Johnny.

“No, I’m seventh,” Mark mutters.

Finally, someone who gets it. “Exactly! I’m at least sixth by seniority.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mark says.

“You can’t mean that he’s fifth and _I’m_ sixth,” Yuta says. “You wouldn’t betray me like that, right, Mark?”

Well, tough, Doyoung thinks.

“That’s not what I meant either. I mean, like, you and Doyoung –” Mark starts. But then Taeyong starts clamoring for dessert, and the conversation moves on before Doyoung can ask what Mark means.

He forgets about it pretty quickly. He has a lot to think about.

After Taeyong almost contaminated their soup with whatever outside pollutants have accumulated on his sleeve, he gave up on giving Doyoung such blatant signals. But the damage is done. Doyoung is acutely aware of how many times some version of his name leaves Yuta’s mouth. He’s a little appalled at how many of them are diminutives. But Yuta isn’t looking at him more than usual, or even saying anything particularly incriminating, so it doesn't seem like some part of a grander plan. In fact, it’s almost like… Yuta isn’t aware of what he’s doing. He really just… talks about Doyoung a lot.

The implications are astounding.

Maybe he’s not getting something out of wreaking havoc on Doyoung’s life, because he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. In fact, Doyoung thinks, maybe Yuta doesn’t have any plan at all. The realization dawns on him: when they enact clever deceptions against the other team, it’s almost always _Doyoung’s_ plan. Yuta, when operating on his own, is much more of the type to act on instinct. Even that time he ambushed Doyoung on the quad, it was a crime of opportunity, because Ten had texted ahead and warned him. (Like Doyoung said, all his friends are snakes.)

Doyoung is the brains of the operation here. Why is he going into overdrive over this?   
  
  
  
Doyoung drags Taeyong to the side the instant they’re out of the restaurant. “Taeyong. What if he doesn’t know?”

Taeyong peers back at him unsteadily, still a little tipsy. Doyoung has to keep this quick before Johnny comes outside to collect his wayward boyfriend.

“Taeyong,” he tries again. “What if he doesn’t even know what he’s doing to me?”

Hands clamp down on his elbows as Taeyong lurches toward him, his eyes suddenly too awake. Taeyong looks him in the eye.

“Then you tell him.”   
  
  
  
Which would be all well and good, if Doyoung knew what exactly to tell him.

It's not like he’s done this before. What is he supposed to say, “you don’t know what you’re doing to me but please stop it”? “I have an inexplicable weakness towards you and I just know it’s your fault somehow”? “Stop giving me the warm fuzzies or I’ll come for your kneecaps”?

God, this is stupid.

Okay, so Yuta gets under Doyoung’s skin somehow. Yuta isn’t aware that he’s doing this. This only works because Doyoung lets it. Why would Doyoung leave this weakness unattended for so long?

Doyoung stares deeply into his midnight snack, pondering, and resolves to never let Yuta realize he eats midnight snacks on a regular basis. He can’t deal with the nagging about his dietary choices right now.

Maybe he’s going about this the wrong way. He’s so stuck in the present, spinning the wheels of his mind aimlessly, when in truth this situation has been years in the making.

Maybe Doyoung needs to go all the way back to the beginning.

Remember that gangly little second-year of two years ago? Dial it back even further. He shrinks before your very eyes (mentally, not physically). Now he’s a first-year. He still thinks he’ll be a chem major, because the stoichiometry unit hasn't seized him by the throat and shook him around yet. He has a stack of ASA flyers from the club fair in his room, but he has yet to figure out which building they meet in. This is his first Clash, ever, and he just doesn’t understand how it all fell to pieces so quickly.

He’s surrounded, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He’s all out of bullets. The three of them haven’t figured out yet that he’s huddled behind this wall, but they’re closing in on him. He draws his knees into his chest and clutches his gun close.

Then they all stumble suddenly, as if something tripped them.

Or as if someone shot them all in the back without warning.

This guy appears from behind as if from a dream. He's crowing about taking out so many at once, but that’s fair; Doyoung would do that too in his position. The guy flips his hair out of his eyes and smiles at Doyoung.

Oh no.

God, if Doyoung weren’t so salty about needing rescue, he’d have to admit. Doyoung does like a man with good aim and no mercy.

Of course, within a day Doyoung was introduced to his less attractive points, but he can’t deny that for that one moment, he couldn't help but smile back.

Years in the future, two things about this encounter will stick close in Doyoung’s memory even as time passes: one, the way he smiled when he introduced himself as Nakamoto Yuta, even when Doyoung ignored his offered hand to help him up out of spite. Two, the way he cackled when he put up a hand for a high-five and backed out just as quickly, shouting “too slow!” like some kind of dumbass.

Then he ran off, and from that day on, he became Doyoung’s nemesis.

Well, okay, a nemesis who prods at him to take care of himself, and a nemesis who served as his captain for an entire Clash last year, but it’s the spirit of the thing that counts. If Doyoung calls him his nemesis, what else can he be?

Doyoung can barely imagine a Clash without Yuta at this point, running around like the nuisance he is. Four years, and Doyoung’s still not sure if Yuta is better as an ally or an enemy. One helps him bring his plans to deadly fruition; the other keeps him on his toes so he can come up with the plans in the first place. One of the primary reasons he agreed to run this year's event with Yuta in the first place was that he couldn’t imagine taking part in it without him. (That, and the incredible boost in reputation.)

The chase just wouldn’t be the same. He doesn’t want to run anywhere or hunt anyone without Yuta there in some capacity.

Doyoung pictures it in spite of himself, for one dizzying moment: the two of them in some forest somewhere, years in the future. No birds singing, but he hears a laugh up ahead, tantalizing. He speeds up to burst into the clearing only to find it empty. He loses time like this: a glint of sun on bleached hair, the flash of a teasing smile in the distance, but Doyoung turns and only finds more silent trees. His hand closes on nothing. He calls out to no one.

This is all very dramatic, Doyoung is aware, but another realization strikes him first.

Doyoung doesn’t want to meet Yuta 20 years from now and still be chasing him, somewhere far out of reach. The thought aches so much he can barely stand it.

Doyoung wants to see him right now and – and –   
  
  
  
_Oh my god. I’m in love with him._   
  
  
  
**tae [11:46pm]** i’m so proud of you, doyoung  
**do [11:46pm]** not the time! wtf do i do!!!  
**tae is typing…**  
**tae [11:51pm]** i’ve known you for almost four years now, and i've really seen you blossom into the brilliant young man i always knew you would be. others may have doubted, but i knew! i knew!! that you would get here one day!  


Doyoung shakes his head at Taeyong trying to turn this into a soppy heartfelt moment when Doyoung is busy having a crisis. Read the room, you numbskull.

**tae [11:53pm]** i can’t believe you finally got your head out of your ass!   
  
  
  
“Congratulations,” Kun tells him the next day, while Ten grumbles and passes him something. It might be a stack of bills. Whatever. What Doyoung doesn’t acknowledge can’t hurt him.   
  
  
  
**mr moon man [2:18pm]** I always knew you’d be epic together. what a power couple  
**mr dodo man [2:19pm]** taeil, that’s not the point!  
**mr dodo man [2:19pm]** but thank u  
**mr moon man [2:20pm]** Seriously though. i’m pretty sure yuta would fistfight people on your behalf if you asked  
**mr dodo man is typing…**  
**mr dodo man [2:22pm]** … tell me more   
  
  
  
Doyoung is still in crisis mode a week later, when the semester-end research showcase rolls around. He has never been more grateful that his professor didn’t pressure him to get a version of his thesis ready in time for it, because he’d never be able to focus like this.

Man, being in love sucks.

The first person he spots on arrival turns out to be Taeyong. Before Doyoung can speak, Taeyong grabs him by the shoulders and cheers in his face, “You’re finally here! Good, great, I grabbed you a program. One second… I put it right around here… Oh, that’s right!” Taeyong beams at him.

Doyoung has a bad feeling about this.

“I gave your program to Yuta. You’ll have to go find him!”

Doyoung turns on his heel and starts speedwalking towards the welcome table.

“No, no, don’t just grab another! Do you want to waste paper?” Taeyong activates every muscle of his body to strongarm Doyoung into walking past the table and into the crowd. “Think of the turtles, Doyoung! The turtles!”

He doesn’t let go until Doyoung stops struggling. (For the record, Doyoung only stops because they’re in a public, crowded space.)

Then he disappears into the auditorium, where a selection of dance majors are performing awkwardly on a stage that’s too small, because of course the administration recognizes that the _more important_ majors need an entire stage for their little podiums.

Doyoung stands there awkwardly for a second. So, Taeyong wants to throw him at Yuta, huh? That’s real cute. Doyoung pulls out his phone. It’s a good thing he opened the online version of the event program in a tab last night.

He starts to see the pattern when he runs into Ten half an hour later. This is largely because Ten makes little to no effort at hiding it.

“Hey Doyoung! Yuta disappeared after I agreed to grab us food from the snack table. Give him this for me.” He dumps two plates of tiny sandwiches and pastries into Doyoung’s hands. He’s gone before Doyoung can say, seriously?

Where’s the fruit? Is Ten planning to deprive their mutual friend of vitamin C?

Doyoung sighs and goes on a detour for healthy refreshment options.

And then, because the world is cruel, he runs into Kun at the refreshment table. Kun eyes his two plates pointedly, which is rich coming from a man holding two plates himself, presumably one for Ten and one for himself.

“I’d give you a high-five of solidarity if I had a free hand for it,” Kun tells him.

Doyoung stares at him. “Why?”

“We could start a support group,” Kun continues, heaping a small mountain of baklava onto one plate. “For men whipped past the point of no return.”

“You just made that sound way worse than it actually is.”

Kun just claps him on the shoulder, says “say hi to Yuta for me”, and walks away. Doyoung is left standing there with his two plates and one new question: why did Ten give him two plates? To make him look extra whipped? Doyoung wouldn’t overfeed Yuta outside of regular meal times like that.

Maybe some of the food is for Doyoung himself, he thinks. Maybe Ten cares about him and wants him fed.

Doyoung considers this novel idea for a moment. Could it be? Then he shakes his head.

Nah, that’s just not possible.   
  
  
  
This is all Yuta’s fault. Doyoung wouldn’t be in any of this mess if Yuta had just left him to die their first year.

By the time he finds Yuta, Doyoung is carrying two plates, one free t-shirt, four handouts from talks he’d found interesting, every single handout left in the room after Jeno finished his presentation, and one handout from someone’s surprisingly nuanced breakdown of misogyny in Naruto.

Don’t ask.

God, what has Doyoung come to. Such whipped behavior, and for a _man._ For _some guy._

Doyoung almost crashes into someone coming out of the room he’s entering. He can feel the judgment practically wafting off of them, but that’s fine. He has more important things on his mind, like making sure the food survived the near-collision.

Doyoung wishes he could scowl at them for their judgment, but ultimately, Doyoung’s own choices brought him to this point. He has no one to blame but himself. He’s the fool here.

In the distance, Yuta knocks over an entire row of posterboards in his rush to praise Shotaro’s project about sea otters.

Doyoung rescinds his prior statement.

Doyoung watches Yuta hug Shotaro and literally shake him back and forth, and smiles in spite of himself. God, it really is this dork for him, huh. He’s doomed.

Once Yuta spots Doyoung (and receives the fruit, and the surprisingly nuanced breakdown of misogyny in Naruto), he practically tackles Doyoung into a hug too. Doyoung barely scrapes his brain together to hug back. This is nice. Warm, safe. Definitely a major upgrade from Yuta wrapping him into a human burrito.

Doyoung’s mind kicks back into overdrive after Yuta lets him go.

Forget being in crisis mode. If Doyoung manages to win Yuta over and maybe even date him, he could exercise hugging privileges all the time. He could hold his hand sometimes. He could steal a kiss for luck before each new challenge. Just imagine the possibilities.

Doyoung shivers all over, but he’s not panicked anymore. He’s excited.

It’s time for a new battle plan.   
  
  
  
“Are you sure you want to do this, Doyoung?”

Doyoung ignores the question. His ceaseless preparations speak for themselves.

Taeyong huffs. “Alright, well, you better go through with this, or else.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll tell Johnny you used me for target practice,” Taeyong tells him in a tone more menacing than it deserves.

Doyoung isn’t really that scared of Johnny, but if Johnny finds out, he’ll definitely throw Doyoung over one shoulder and run around yelling with him just to prove a point, and that’s just not worth the spectacle.

Good thing Doyoung has a spectacle of his own planned.

He cocks his gun at Taeyong and gives him a grimace. Well, here goes nothing…   
  
  
  
Doyoung arrives early only to find that Yuta’s there already, because of course he is, the bastard. Can’t even give Doyoung the time to compose himself now, at the moment of truth, can he?

Doyoung ignores the fact that there’s no way Yuta knew Doyoung had anything to psych himself up for.

The opening ceremony for this year’s Clash hasn’t even formally started yet, but Yuta’s already surrounded by volunteers. He’ll be preparing to delegate out the tasks that Doyoung so lovingly laid out in a massive spreadsheet. He has the team armbands on his own arms, ready for distribution, one arm covered in yellow up to the shoulder, and the other in red. He looks ridiculous. Doyoung loves him.

“Hands where I can see them, Nakamoto!” When Yuta turns around, confused, Doyoung shoots him in the chest.

Or he would, if it didn’t get jammed in the barrel.

Suddenly Doyoung can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. Shit. Fuck. What was the point of all that rehearsal if it’s going to fail him now? He turns his back so he can jam his fingers into the barrel and try to wiggle it out.

“God, Doyoung. Only you would do this,” he hears Taeyong sigh.

“Shut up!”

A hand appears on the barrel, trying to pull it away. Doyoung doesn’t notice for the first couple of seconds – he’s kind of busy here – but the hand looks familiar. He glances up and follows an intensely yellow arm up to see Yuta’s face.

“Give it here,” says the unwelcome specter. “I can help.”

Doyoung jerks back. “No! You’re not allowed to help!”

Yuta just sighs. “You’re going to have to learn to accept help sometime, Doyo.” Which is, well, _rude,_ but what’s even ruder is the fact that Yuta just fishes the jammed bullet out in a manner of seconds. Only it isn’t a bullet; in fact, Yuta unrolls it to find that it’s a tight wad of notebook paper, featuring a couple of lines in Doyoung’s sharp handwriting.

Doyoung shouts.

Maybe in a kinder world, Yuta would have the time to read it then, and he would find that it says: _Will you go out with me? Check yes/no._

(Doyoung is no master of romance, but he can manage to be cheesy, just to get the job done. The fun part comes afterward anyway.)

And maybe in a kinder world, Yuta could take a moment to savor the surprise. His mouth would fall open without a sound. Doyoung would be smug to leave him speechless for once. Yuta could take Doyoung by the hand, and explain that he was just waiting for Doyoung to catch up. He started envisioning a future with Doyoung ages ago.

As if Doyoung would ever come in second to him on something. Nice try, bucko.

(But maybe Doyoung would accept his defeat with grace, if it came with a boyfriend.)

And then Yuta would try to sweep him off his feet, and fail, because Doyoung is a man who can stand on his own two legs. As consolation, Doyoung would consent to a single kiss on the cheek. Their friends would explode into cheers. Yuta would beam at them all, steal a megaphone, and start announcing their relationship to the entire west side of campus.

But for now he has to run. Doyoung is going to pummel him for ruining his confession.   
  
  
  
(Yuta checks yes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- i didn't manage to work this in, but fun fact: doyoung once bought yuta a keychain of his least favorite character from his favorite anime of all time as a present.  
> \- this kinda mashes together parts of my experiences at both a small college and a big uni, so i’m not sure if the uni experience presented here is confusing. hopefully it's fun though!  
> \- my college does actually have an event like this, but it’s themed differently. also no one is as intense about it as doyoung lol  
> \- this is like more than twice as long as i expected it to be, which is a pleasant surprise ^.^  
> \- i would like to thank my friend vicki for her suggestions of chem topics to crush doyoung’s dreams, and the mods for running this event <3


End file.
